


Voices

by Str4y



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Death, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Exes, Hearing Voices, Heavy Angst, Horror, M/M, Marriage, Murder, Murder Mystery, Pain, References to Depression, Rumors, Serial Killers, Small Towns, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Str4y/pseuds/Str4y
Summary: Minho could hear voices. The dead. Minho could hear the dead.Hearing the dead was a curse for Minho, but when a string of homicides leaves Minho's small town in anguish, hearing the dead might be his best asset (or maybe his worst.)
Relationships: Bang Chan/Seo Changbin, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Comments: 42
Kudos: 128





	1. Chopin

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, i've been looking at this fic in my docs for awhile now, so I figured it was time to post it. I hope whoever reads enjoys and I do have a few minor things to say about certain chapters but i'll put them in the author notes.
> 
> Slightly spoiler-ish but I figured I should include these so everyone is aware of how dark this fic is:
> 
> Chapter one on its own has:  
> -A dead man is pulled out of a body of water two years.  
> -A pregnant woman is murdered off-screen  
> -Age difference is a thing and one of the characters in the fic uses an aggressive term against the main character because of it. 
> 
> —the fic was originally Jeongin x Minho. I’ve changed it to Jisung x Minho from here on out! (The comments below may mention Jeongin but that’s because they commented before I made the change!!

* * *

“Ahh!” Minho arched his back, head smacking the hood of his boyfriend's dusty pickup. His body trembled with every touch as the younger man ran his hands up and down Minho’s hips. 

“Your noises are so pretty, Minho.” The younger man whispered, his lips relaxing at Minho’s jaw to give small nibbles that had Minho’s head spinning in pleasure. 

“Jisung, you’re going to _kill_ me,” Minho laughed, his boyfriend's hands finally reaching up his shirt to run over his sweat-covered stomach. 

“You feel so amazing, Minho…”

Minho laughed at that, Jisung’s lips running across his throat and sending him back against the pickup, eyes fluttering shut as a smile spread across his face. 

But the bliss was momentary.

_A harsh scream._

Minho’s eyes shot open as he pushed Jisung upright, the younger man blinking at him in surprise as Minho clutched his chest in shock. 

_The same harsh scream, yet louder. More drawn out._

Minho panicked, eyes darting around, “where is that coming from?”

Jisung tilted his head, “where is what coming from? Min, what are you talking about?”

_The scream grew. It sounded even worse. Whoever this person was seemed to be screaming for their life. Maybe even inches within it._

“Jisung how do you not hear her?!” Minho pulled himself off of Jisung’s hood, buttoning his shirt as he brought both hands to his hair, stress pounding in his head as his chest tightened, “we have to call the police! Jisung, someone needs help!”

Jisung slid off the hood, placing a hand at Minho’s forehead suddenly. 

“Jisung, call the cops! My phone is dead!” Minho gasped out before that scream rang through his ears again, this time so close that Minho thought he’d vomit out of fear. 

“‘Minho, what are you talking about?”

“How do you not hear it?!” Minho screamed back, trying to overpower the loud shrieks that were booming in his ears. 

“Minho all I hear is you raising your voice in the middle of nowhere. Minho, look at me.” Jisung grabbed his face, narrowing his eyes and scanning Minho’s face in worry, “Minho…”

“You can’t hear the screaming?” Minho panicked, looking into the direction of the screams. It sounded _so_ close. 

“No… Min, there’s no screaming—“ Jisung took a deep breath before taking his phone out, turning on his recorder. 

Minho was shocked. How could Jisung not hear the woman screaming? 

_Screaming. She was screaming again._

“Minho, listen,” Jisung played the recording, Minho anticipating the horrifying cry. 

But there was nothing but the sound of crickets and Minho’s heavy breaths. 

“Wh-what?” Minho clutched his hair again, the screams repeating, “Jisung, I’m not crazy I swear I can hear it…”

“Minho…” Jisung cupped his face, worry spread all over his expression, “where do you hear it?”

Minho grabbed Jisung’s arm, tugging him harshly towards where the sound was coming from. As much as he didn’t want to go to wherever the scream was coming from, for some reason Jisung was acting like he couldn’t hear it—no, he probably _wasn’t_ hearing it. Which made no sense! Clearly someone was crying out for help. 

_The screams were so loud. Minho stopped dead in his tracks, the screams so loud that he knew that whoever this person was had to have been right in front of them._

“I don’t... I don’t understand, I can _hear_ her!”

Jisung looked concerned as Minho pulled away, “Min there’s nothing here—“

Minho clasped his chest, scanning around in awe, “Jisung I’m not crazy! There is a girl and she needs help. I can hear her screaming!”

_The screams ceased._

“Minho.”

“Jisung I’m not crazy!” Minho was crying from the distress and volume of the scream, his hands in his hair as he paced the area. 

“M-Minho.”

“I’m serious I can hear her. I can—“

“Minho.”

_Crunch._

Minho stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening as he glanced down to where he’d just stepped. 

“Minho…”

Minho glanced at his boyfriend quickly before crouching down, moving his foot to expose… To expose fingers. Delicate, yet rotting fingers with chipped purple paint and tinted flowers speckled at the exposed cuticle. 

Minho vomited. 

_The girl’s screams had ceased._

And the only scream in the woods that night was Minho’s own. 

* * *

“Minho.”

_Seven years._

“Huh?” Minho glanced up from his spot, eyes fixating on the man in the messy dress shirt before him. 

“Forty-nine year old male. He went missing six days after a deal with his supposed drug dealer went sour two years ago.” Minho blinked slowly as the man sat at the desk, “are you even listening?”

“I’m always _listening._ You know that.” Minho snapped back, eyes struggling to fixate on the man, “I hear you.”

“He went missing around here,” the man lay a file into Minho’s lap, Minho’s fingers brushing along the photograph. A pier. Of course it was a pier. 

“You think his body is here?”

“A fisherman said he was drunk out there the day he went missing. Said he was with some pretty scary men.”

“Ah, so you think they... You know.”

“We hope the rest of him is here. All we have is his right hand. Which was mailed to his daughter.”

Minho sat back in his chair, eyes struggling to fixate again. 

“ _Minho.”_

“What?”

“Where do you go?”

“Let’s just go.” Minho quickly interjected, pulling himself up from his spot before hastily passing the man at the desk. 

“Minho.” The man’s hand grabbed Minho’s shoulder, spinning him around quickly, “are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, _Changbin_. Let’s just get this over with.”

Minho had a problem. He wasn’t necessarily sure why he’d been cursed with this absurd ability. But it was awful. Everywhere he went he could hear the last words of people who had died. It didn’t matter how long ago or how they died. He could just _hear_ them. He could hear the cries of warriors from centuries ago as they took their last breath. He could hear the sickly coughing up their last lung. He could hear the cries of starving children. 

It was _torture_. 

It was a wonder Minho hadn’t killed himself—not that he hadn’t tried many times before, Minho had lost count of the number of times he’d tried to kill himself. 

This ability to hear the dead’s last words was also unfortunately an asset. That’s probably the only thing that kept him from drowning himself in painkillers or hanging himself from his closet. 

_An asset._

Minho kept his ears free as he and Changbin walked along the pier. He couldn’t hear much besides the gulls and the waves splashing the pier. Which was nice for once. It was very nice. He was glad this wasn't a common dumping ground for the dead. Otherwise he might have lost it. 

“Minho, anything?”

Minho shook his head, eyes struggling to follow the white lines painted on the ground, “nothing yet. Nothing at all.”

“ _Good._ It means you have a clear head at least.”

Changbin was an investigator. He worked in cases that had lingered over a year, and this particular case had strung on for a decent couple years. The man they were trying to locate had been missing for about two years now. And they’d finally been given a lead via a random fisherman who just so happened to see the reward poster the man's family had placed in one of the bars in town after they’d lost hope. 

Two years too late, however. They knew the man was long dead. Hell, his hand had been delivered to his daughter—heiress to his legacy. 

“You feeling okay, Minho?” Changbin asked, giving Minho an earnest expression of worry, “you’re taking your medicine, right?”

Minho glared at him, “mind your business, Changbin.”

“You _are_ my business, Minho.”

“No, your business is your husband and the little dog you sport around. Not me.” Minho snapped. 

No, he wasn’t taking his medication. He hadn’t in over two months. The medication made him feel like a zombie. Not to mention whatever they’d changed the formula to five months ago had begun to hinder his ability. It made him useless. 

He couldn’t afford to be useless. 

Changbin rolled his eyes, “so you’re not taking your medicine then.”

Minho grit his teeth, “if I take it I can’t hear them, Changbin.”

Changbin gave Minho a sympathetic look. 

“I have to hear them. If I can’t hear them I’m…” he stopped, ears ringing with whispers. 

Changbin stopped, glancing around, “do you hear him?” 

Minho listened in, the man sputtering apologies. It sounded like him. _Exact_. And he had that distinctive dialect that Minho remembered picking up from one of the videos he’d been shown. 

_Please don’t kill me!_

Minho sighed out as the screaming began, “yes…”

_Stop please,_ the man screamed out. 

Minho drew a breath as he crouched down to the pier, eyes scanning the water below. 

_Please don’t do this! Please—_ Screaming _._

Minho brought a hand to his ear as the scream rang through his ears. It wasn’t fair that he could hear the man's screams even though he’d been plunged into the sea. 

“I’ll call it in.” Changbin pat Minho’s hair fondly before rushing off, phone in hand as Minho continued to scan the water below. 

_Screaming. Incessant screaming under the water._

He drowned. He was thrown in while he was still alive. That must have fucking sucked. 

Minho closed his eyes as the man's screams filled his head. He was so terrified. He was begging for his life. Begging to be spared. 

Minho could hear the bubbles and thrashing through water. He could hear a soft thud as well. 

He must’ve been weighted down. 

So he was never dismembered. He’d been down in one piece the entire time—spare one of his hands. 

_Help me!_

“I am…” Minho whispered, clutching his messy purple hair in his hands, rocking back and forth at the pier. 

_Please save me!_

“I can’t do that one,” Minho huffed, listening to the pleas of the dying man. 

_Music._

Minho glanced up, Changbin settled beside him with his phone in hand, AirPod pressed into one of Minho’s ears before Changbin pressed the other pod into his own ear. 

_Classical music._

Minho took a deep breath, “thank you.”

“Chopin.”

_Beautiful._

Minho let his eyes fall shut as he listened to the music, “aeolian harp.” He heard Changbin whisper to him, the man's hand ruffling his hair comfortably. 

_Beautiful._

Minho opened his eyes again, the classical music freeing his mind as he stood at the edge of the pier, hands deep in his coat pockets as the dive team finally pulled up what they were looking for. 

A two year old drowned body was never a good sight to see. But it wasn’t Minho’s first. 

Minho watched closely, slipping the AirPod from his ear as the screams finally silenced the moment the corpse was pulled from the water in its entirety. 

_Calmness._ Minho felt a new calmness. 

“Hey,” Minho stilled, turning to face Changbin, “Chan wants to know if you’d like dinner tonight.”

Minho glanced at the body being forced from the water, noticing how his feet were missing, but that was probably because they’d broken off from being weighed down, “won’t you be busy?”

“Not too much. I can’t do much until they call for me. It’s not like I’m a medical examiner.”

Minho nodded, hands deep in his pockets, “okay, then I’d like that.”

* * *

“Hey girl, come here!”

Minho watched the small dog scurry across the floor to meet Changbin’s husband, _Chan_. The small dog took the piece of chicken greedily that the man held out for her. 

Minho didn’t really like dogs much. But this one was okay enough. 

“How long did it take to find the body?” Chan asked, spoonful of potatoes and vegetables meeting his mouth, cheeks filling with the large bite. 

“Not long. Minho found him fast.” Changbin responded quickly. 

“Minho is a freaking gem,” Chan added, giving Minho a wink, “where would your department be without him?”

“Shit out of luck,” Changbin concluded, giving Minho another worried look, “however... I think it’s getting to be too much.”

“Pardon?” Minho snapped. 

“You should start taking your medicine again. You’re happier on the pills.”

“I’m useless on the pills.”

“Maybe it’s just a side effect. But not taking them isn’t helping you either.”

Minho shook his head, “I don’t mind hearing them.” That was a lie, but he cared more about helping find people in need of rest rather than shut them out. He would hate himself if he ever shut someone in need out. It felt unfair to the dead, “they deserve someone who can help them.”

“It’s affecting you really badly though, isn’t it?” Changbin asked. 

“Minho’s a grown adult, Changbin.” Chan took Changbin’s hand, “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”

Changbin gave Minho a look riddled in guilt, “but is he okay with it?”

_Not really._

“Anyways.” Minho took a spoonful to his lips, finally taking in the food that Chan had cooked for them, “the meal is really good.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Chan smiled, seeming to keep Changbin calm. 

Chan and Changbin had been really good to him. Minho had lived on his own a few years after high school. He was driving his parents mad with his loud music to drown out the voices of the dead. He wasn’t sure why the strange ability had hit him so suddenly, but he knew he disliked it strongly. It was like his mind was on fire anytime he started to hear whimpers or screams. Nothing helped to drown them out besides blasting his house with music, which had destroyed his relationship with his parents at the time. 

So he moved out. 

Moving out wasn’t bad. He was content where he lived. Though it took a lot of adjusting and plenty of noise complaints, he’d finally found somewhere that felt comfortable enough. 

He hated this ability. Not only had it hindered his relationship with his parents to the point he had to move out, but it destroyed his relationship with the only person who really cared about him at the time, his ex Jisung. 

Granted maybe dating a freshman when he was a junior in high school was bad enough. Even though they were both kids in high school, Jisung _was_ only two years younger than him. Thinking back, Minho definitely regretted it more than he missed it. 

But it wasn’t like they lasted long once Minho graduated anyways. If it wasn’t the lack of seeing one another since Minho had started working rather than going to school, it was the _rumor_ or the _hearing dead people’s last words_ shit. Who would stay with someone who could hear the dead anyways? Jisung was smart to break things off with Minho. 

_It’s just too much, you know?_ Jisung had said. 

Minho remembered when he and Jisung stumbled upon that girl in the woods. He remembered how scared Jisung looked while Minho panicked over hearing screams that Jisung couldn’t. If things had been reversed, Minho probably would have broken up with Jisung too. 

_Jisung._

Jisung was married now. 

Minho frowned in thought, watching his ceiling fan as thoughts raced in his mind. 

Why had Minho been cursed like this? He hadn’t done anything wrong? He was only nineteen at the time. 

Minho took a deep breath, hands clasped over his stomach. 

_Jisung was married now._ He had a _child_ on the way. Minho remembered seeing Jisung and his new wife months ago at a restaurant. It was weird. Things were so weird now that time had passed. 

They got married so young. Jisung was a mere twenty three. What was he doing getting married and having kids? 

Minho still _felt_ like a kid. Twenty six wasn’t that much different from nineteen in a lot of ways for Minho, while at the same time he felt like an entirely different person. 

Marriage. Children. They weren’t things that Minho was even concerned about. He was more worried about what his next paycheck would have on it. 

Romance was something he couldn’t have. Not anymore. He’d tried after Jisung. In the form of someone who he once considered almost as close of a friend as Changbin was. _But they were just a friend._ They didn’t work out for a thousand different reasons. And honestly the memories of trying to figure out how to have sex without hearing dead people in his ear was even more embarassing. 

Minho rolled over, eyes falling shut as he tried to shake the thoughts of the past from his head. At least he was comfortable here. No disturbed souls were lurking there and he could just breathe in the comfort of his home. 

* * *

_Minho hated memories._ But he couldn’t avoid them after the news report hit his screen. Maybe he’d predicated something bad would happen to Jisung. He’d been thinking about him a lot actually. 

_‘Pregnant woman missing.’_

They didn’t have to release her name for Minho to think it must have been Jisung’s wife. _No._ It could have been anyone else’s wife. He was jumping to conclusions only because Jisung had crossed his mind. 

He turned the TV off. 

* * *

Minho had replayed _Chopin_ for the last few days, eyes shut as he sat in the grass close to the river, the sounds of people laughing in the distance and the sound of nature filtered with the sound of piano from his AirPods. 

_Classical music_ was the only surefire way Minho had discovered to mute the dead around him. He couldn’t give everyone peace—people who had died and rot into the ground cried for him. And there was nothing he could do to change that. 

He let out soft breaths as he focused on every key, world feeling so still yet he knew the second he opened his eyes everything would spin again. 

He _thought_ everything would spin at least, but the moment he opened his eyes everything stalled around the face of the man he knew well. 

_Knew._

Minho slipped an AirPod out of his ear, mouth parted to speak though he wasn’t necessarily sure what to say to the person standing with the turtleneck pulled to his chin and hands shoved into his long coat in front of him. 

“Hey Minho.”

Minho closed his mouth, keeping the other pod in to mute the dead, focusing the other on the man in front of him. 

“Is there anywhere we can go to talk where you’ll be comfortable?” _Considerate_. 

Minho slid himself up from the ground, brushing the grass from his pants as the younger man stood before him with the slightest half smile. 

He took Jisung to a small corner restaurant nearby the river. Minho found that it was a safe place for him. The classical music that played drowned out the noise around and made the voices easy to ignore. 

“It’s nice to see you…”

They still lived close enough. The particular town was small and it wasn’t like Jisung had moved very far at all. They’d lived so separately for years. 

“How long has it been?” Jisung asked, struggling to carry conversation. 

“Six or seven years I think,” Minho spat, eyes scanning the restaurant decor. He knew it by heart by now, but it was easier to look at the array of decorations than it was Jisung. 

“Wow, a lot has changed.”

“Yeah…” Minho crossed his arms, “a lot.”

Jisung seemed uncomfortable. 

“It’s your wife, isn’t it?”

It was harsh. A little out of the blue and very rude. 

“Oh my god I didn’t mean—.”

“Yeah. It is.”

Minho felt regret bubbling in his chest, “I didn’t mean to be so blunt, it’s just a small town and—I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know that you don't have a clear head for long anymore.” It was a playful jab, “I can’t imagine what it’s like so... it’s okay, really.”

Minho frowned, “what happened?”

“One night she disappeared. I woke up and she wasn’t next to me anymore.”

Minho’s eyes left Jisung’s, fixating on the table instead. 

“I actually wanted to see you because of it.”

Minho winced at that, “what am I supposed to do about it?”

“I think you know what I mean…”

Minho took a deep breath, looking up to Jisung again, “she’s only been missing for—.”

“It's been days.”

“You’re giving up too fast…”

Jisung slipped a piece of paper onto the table, sliding it towards Minho, “am I?”

Minho’s eyes fell to the paper, scanning the words with his eyes. 

“I don’t know where she went but she’s definitely... I don’t think she’s alive, Minho.”

“She’s your wife,” Minho sighed out, “why would she do that? Have you shown this to the police?”

It was a _suicide_ note. 

“No. If I show them they’ll stop looking.”

Minho shook his head, “Jisung…”

“Can you help me find her _body_?”

It was so casual, too casual. Jisung’s _very_ pregnant wife had left him a suicide note and he was treating it so oddly. 

Minho slipped the letter back to Jisung, “where would she go? Did the police find anything?”

“I told them where she frequents but they didn’t find anything.”

“She could still be alive. Were you two having problems?”

Jisung’s expression was cold, “I loved her, Minho.”

His reactions were just so _off_. 

“I’m sorry I’m not sobbing and tearing my hair out, but I loved her. I really did.”

“Why do you keep saying loved—.”

“She’s _dead_ . I _know_ she’s dead. I can feel it in my chest. I _know_ she didn’t want to die but I feel like she’s not here anymore.”

Minho watched Jisung closely. _Ah_. He could see the faltering and discomfort in those big eyes. He could tell it was a clear facade of put-togetherness that only Jisung could muster. Perhaps he could hide his pain from others, but Minho could see it in his eyes now. He was a fool to not look deep enough to see that Jisung really was in pain. He really had loved this woman. 

“I think you should give them this letter…”

“You’re the only one who can help me with the truth, Minho.”

The truth? 

Minho ran his fingers into the mess of plum-colored strands of his own hair, “are we supposed to go anywhere in particular? Jisung where would she be?”

“She liked the trail not too far from here. A lot. She used to talk about how much she loved it.”

_Trail._

Minho exhaled softly, “the same trail that—?”

“Yeah.”

The trail that _ruined_ his life. The woods he and Jisung had snuck off to that night where Minho was hit with this horrific ability to hear the dead. Of _course_ Jisung had taken his wife there. Jisung had shown Minho that trail years before. Jisung loved that trail. 

“You think she’s out there?”

“Maybe. I don’t know where to look beyond there. If she _wanted_ to kill herself, she’d do it there, right? She even... she mentioned it in the letter, Minho. I just don’t…” he paused, eyes struggling to look into Minho’s, “it doesn’t feel real.”

Minho honestly hadn’t read very far. It stung to read a half-love, half-suicide note. But the trail must’ve meant something if she’d mentioned it. 

“And if you find her body, how do you explain that to anyone? Why wouldn’t you just tell the police? Maybe they’d give the case to Changbin and then I could go out there properly?”

“I don’t know. I trust you. I trust that you can hear the truth. If they find her and move her first, I’m worried I’ll never know.”

The body _couldn't_ be moved. Jisung was right about that. Minho couldn’t get the full truth from a disturbed body. If the body was moved, the voices skewed. Anything could be said once the body would be moved from their horrific resting place. There was a reason the drowned man at the pier had silenced. He’d been freed. Maybe he would say more later, but it wouldn’t be something that would be useful. 

Minho shook his head, grief building in his stomach, “I can help you but what happens if we find her body? That’ll look weird, won’t it?”

“We call it in and tell them the truth. I just want to know how she died.” He was so _convinced_ she wasn’t alive anymore. 

“You realize how this looks on you, right?”

“I just want to find her, Minho. I don’t care how it looks, I just... I can feel my heart twisting. I need to find her and lay her to rest. Please help me…”

“Jisung, was she suicidal at all before?”

“She was young and pregnant…”

“Jisung.”

“No. But we argued about the baby a lot. At times she made jokes that she wanted to get rid of it and when I told her I supported whatever she wanted she’d call me this horrible monster for even thinking about it and…” Jisung sighed, looking out the window, “she wasn’t stable. I think we rushed things.” _Yes._ “But I didn’t ever think she’d… she wouldn’t do this,” Jisung clenched the letter in his hand, “she wouldn’t kill herself a _month_ before her due date.”

“You’re sure this is legitimate and that this _is_ her handwriting?” Minho looked at the letter again, “you’re positive that she—.”

“Yes, that’s why I need your help Minho. It’s _her_ but it doesn’t feel like _her_...”

What was that supposed to mean?

Minho rubbed his temples momentarily before crossing his arms at the table, “I’ll help you find her.”

Jisung gave Minho a weak half smile, “thank you.”

_Why?_

Minho watched Jisung closely, relief spreading across the other man's features. 

He missed him. He remembered the past. He didn’t want to. But he did. 

_“I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry.”_ Jisung had said years ago. 

The words stung, but it wasn’t like Minho could fault him. 

“ _I’m sorry too... I can’t help it, you know?_ ” Minho recalled holding back the agony in his heart, eyes struggling to fixate on the younger man in front of him, “ _I wish I didn’t hear them. You know I’m not crazy, right?”_

_“I know…”_

“ _If I could stop them, I would.”_

Minho had tried before. He tried to shove a pen in his ear once but panicked when he pressed far enough to draw blood. Besides, he didn't want to hear _nothing_. Minho could find ways around the horrible ability with time, but Jisung clearly didn’t want to wait. 

“ _I know you would, Minho_.” The words relayed in Minho’s mind constantly. 

Minho wasn’t sure why he was so hung up over Jisung leaving him. They _had_ been together nearly three years yet they were never really intimate. It felt like a long time but it was this _innocent_ _romance_. Other than the nights when they made out on Jisung’s truck in the middle of the woods, they’d never really done much _more_ at all. A lot of that came from the distance when Minho graduated. The rest was from whatever happened to Minho that night in the woods. Maybe a lot came from that _rumor_ too—but Minho wanted to give Jisung the benefit of the doubt. 

_What was he doing?_

Minho’s eyes scanned the man beside in the driver's seat of that old pickup, leaning on his hand as his elbow perched on the windowsill. He looked peaceful despite the heartache that Minho knew was there. 

“I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t sure why he said that, but it had Jisung looking at him with soft eyes. 

“I’m sorry about your wife.”

_“Yeeun,”_ Jisung laughed, “I wish she’d stop playing games and come out of hiding. If she could just come out already everything would be okay.”

Minho turned away, eyes focusing on the outside of the truck instead. 

“She really meant everything to me.”

_Chopin_. Minho tried to remember the way the music sounded in his head. He didn’t want to hear anything else about Jisung’s wife. Not one bit. 

Though Jisung continued talking about her, Minho had replaced his voice with the piano. Thankful that his mind could focus enough to let him alter his thoughts for a bit. 

The truck came to a halt. 

Minho recognized the spot. It’s the same spot Jisung had parked many times before. As the truck came to a stop Minho slid out of the truck, the sound of a man whispering below his feet. But that was probably centuries ago. He had to _ignore_ it. 

“The letter, and the way she mentioned this place was... It sounded like she knew she’d end up here.”

“What do you mean?” Minho ignored the wailing of a woman as they walked down the trail. It wasn’t Jisung’s wife anyways. 

“The wording. I know you didn’t read it. Not really, but she sounded so off. Like she was coerced.”

Minho watched him close, “who would coerce her? Did you guys have enemies?” 

“Not that I know of, no. But it just... She sounds panicked in the letter. She doesn’t sound herself but it’s her handwriting. It wasn’t forged, it's _her_ but it isn’t.”

Minho shook his head, ignoring the overlap of a warriors final cry in battle over the woman wailing in the distance, “I guess if she’s here we’ll find out.”

“I know I seem relaxed but... I just can’t believe this until it’s confirmed you know? Would she really kill herself and our—.”

Jisung hadn’t mentioned the baby much. Honestly, Minho couldn’t blame him. He couldn’t imagine the loss of a _child_. 

“You don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

“Sorry, I don’t want to overpower if you hear her at all.”

Minho stopped, letting out a soft sigh, “it’s not that, you know. Just, you don’t have to force yourself to be okay and talk about her like you’re not devastated inside.”

Jisung looked at Minho for too long before turning away, “okay.”

So they continued walking in silence, Minho’s arms crossed over his sweater as he followed Jisung. The whispers weren’t so bad. There were less bodies in these woods than Minho would have thought. So that was nice. Kinda. 

“I’m sorry I brought you back out here…” Minho looked up from the ground, Jisung stopping and turning on his heels, “I shouldn’t have made you come back I just... I don’t think she killed herself. She wouldn’t do that.”

“What makes you think she’s dead for sure?”

Jisung gave an expression Minho had never seen before. He was absolutely heartbroken, “I just know she is, Minho.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions—.”

Minho’s heart raced at the voice that rang through his ears. 

_Please don’t!_

His eyes fell to the ground. It was close. 

_I’m pregnant!_

_Shit_. He winced, starting off in the direction the voice carried, not sparing a glance to Jisung. 

_Please I’ll do whatever you want just please don’t kill my—!_

Minho bit into his lip hard, the scream ringing along with words that he couldn’t take right now. 

_It wasn’t a suicide. That was clear._

“Minho?”

Minho ignored Jisung as he started to walk hastily. Just as he had that night he found the body that started it all for him. 

He couldn’t focus on him. He couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t the voice in his head. 

_No!_

Minho stopped, head ringing as he halted at a particular spot, eyes falling to the ground that had been _clearly_ disturbed. There were leaves brushed around like they were meant to conceal the patches of slightly risen dirt. 

“Minho…”

Minho crouched down, fingertips grazing along the leaves in order to push them away, eyes fixating on the patchy dirt. 

“It’s her, isn’t it?” The way Jisung’s voice cracked had Minho shutting his eyes tight in guilt, “Minho, is it her?” His voice was shaky. 

_Jisung!_

Minho clasped his hands over his face as he stayed crouched by the _obvious_ grave, the voice screaming constantly. Over and over for Jisung. Over and over to not harm their child. 

This was no suicide. Jisung’s wife had been murdered. 

* * *


	2. Mozart

* * *

Changbin was never a fan of classical music. He never found himself craving instrumental—especially with Chan’s own noisy flavor of music. But lately Changbin had been focusing so heavily on the instruments. He blamed Minho for that. 

When Changbin met Minho he couldn’t believe the rumors about him. Minho was some kid who could hear the dead? Was he some sort of ghost whisperer? It sounded fake, and incredibly ludicrous. Minho must have been crazy, and Changbin was appalled people weren’t more concerned for him.

But it  _ wasn’t _ fake. It was very real. And for some odd reason, despite his infamy, the small town thought that Minho was more of an asset than a hindrance. He was useful and the small town had lots of cold cases. 

It was odd how the town had  _ so  _ many murders despite being so small. Maybe it was tourism. The town was the perfect stop before the luscious city. Maybe that along with all of the sketchy people living there in general. 

Minho. He was helpful. 

But Minho also had a really bad temper. Changbin figured that he really couldn’t blame the guy, he  _ did  _ have trouble coping through the things he’d hear. Changbin studied him every time he helped with cases. He’d end up cowering on the ground, shaking and covering his ears. He’d thrash at anyone who tried to console him. And it lasted for a long time. That was until one day Changbin stuck his AirPods into Minho’s ears and played the most boring yet soothing music he knew of. 

Mozart. 

Okay, so Mozart wasn’t exactly boring. But to Changbin, classical music was a snooze fest. And he figured it would help calm Minho down. 

And it fucking worked. 

Changbin remembered how Minho tried to smack him away before calming instantly, cupping his hands over the AirPods. 

Minho became so much calmer with time, and Changbin would always give him his AirPods and play whatever classical musician he could find. 

Only classical music worked. He wasn’t sure why, but the time after the very first, Changbin tried his own music, and it failed. Minho got even more agitated when Changbin played another genre. 

_ Classical _ . 

Classical was good. Classical for some reason calmed Minho down substantially. They even became friends through that. Minho wasn’t so bad honestly. Under the understandable rage, he was awfully nice to talk to. And he was funny. Changbin didn’t mind the guy at all. He actually quite enjoyed his company. And Chan liked him too. And if Chan liked someone, that meant they were good people. 

Minho was a good person. 

“The smell never gets better,” Minho grimaced as he settled into Changbin’s dining room chair, “one day they’ll clean this town and it’ll be breathable.”

Changbin snorted, crossing his arms at the table, “they’ll never clean this town.”

“How do you stand it? Every time it rains the smell of sewage clogs my nose.”

“How do you stand the voices?”

“Okay first of all,  _ you  _ choose to live here.” Minho laughed, “and secondly, I can’t stand the voices.”

“Maybe I can’t stand the smell either.”

Minho narrowed his eyes, “so move?”

“I don’t want to!” Changbin snickered back, Minho leaning back into his seat. 

“Ding! You admit you have a choice.”

Changbin shook his head, the smell of sewage replacing with the overwhelming scent of linen as Chan sprayed the kitchen furiously. 

“Minho’s right, we could move any time we want!”

“Hah!” Minho laughed, giving Chan a quick hi five. 

“And give up the cutest house in town? I don’t honk so!” Changbbin defended, rubbing his hand against the wallpaper that was incredibly outdated. 

“Touché. The house  _ is  _ really cute.” Minho smiled, “and it’s a plus that there’s nobody buried here!”

Chan let out a laugh that was mixed with distress, “yeah, Jesus Christ.”

“And if it was?” Changbin asked. 

“Then we’d move, for sure.” Chan interrupted before placing the can of spray onto the table, “any news on the missing lady?”

_ Oh.  _

Changbin has nearly forgotten that there was a woman missing. Pregnant. Changbin assumed the culprit was the woman’s husband. It usually  _ was  _ the husband. But nothing had been confirmed. 

“Not really. No. There’s really nothing we can find about her,” Changbin started, watching Minho closely. 

Minho seemed to have an idea of who the woman was. But for the sake of investigation, Changbin was told to not say who it was. Besides, Minho didn’t need to know that his ex boyfriend's wife was the one missing. 

Minho and Jisung dated in high school, which seemed unbelievable. Minho seemed like the least dateable man of all time. Well, he didn’t seem that way, he actually  _ was  _ the most undateable person. Changbin didn’t like Jisung much, not that he even knew him. He just knew that Minho never got over him. They broke up a while after Minho’s ability had come to light, and far too close to the rumors for Changbin’s comfort. 

“How are you doing, you look glum?” Chan asked Minho, settling down in the chair beside him. 

Minho’s expression faltered. 

“I’m fine...?”

“You just seem off today.”

Minho’s eyes darted to Changbin momentarily. A sign of his distress, Changbin didn’t even have to tell Minho for him to already know who was missing, did he?

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure—“

“Hey we should get take out,” Changbin interrupted, Chan giving him a look of realization, “wanna call something in, Chan?”

Chan glanced to Minho before rising from the table, “yeah. Pizza?”

Changbin smirked, “well what else would we eat this late on a Wednesday night?”

Minho calmed, “can you put anchovies on mine?”

“You’re disgusting.” Changbin teased, getting a cute scrunched up pout from Minho. 

_ Minho was so weird.  _

But Changbin liked him. Chan liked him too. Minho was like... not to sound insensitive or immoral, but he was sort of like their pet? Minho was like a little stray cat that they couldn’t quite get rid of. There was nothing wrong with Minho being over all the time, though he was very messy and  _ ate all of their food _ . Minho also, though he had his own apartment, practically lived on their couch. There were times Changbin and Chan would come back to Minho stretched out on the couch as some old movie played while he slept. 

Minho was their cat.  _ Truly _ . In the least demeaning way possible. 

But Changbin wouldn’t have it any other way. There was something oddly endearing and comforting every time he came in from a date with his husband to see Minho curled on their couch asleep. There were many times they’d come home ready to fuck on the couch only to run into a very agitated Minho. The amount of times Minho had walked in on them was…

Minho was definitely a cat. A stray cat that they’d somehow adopted into their home. 

“Our cat left.” 

Minho had stayed the night and left early in the morning. Something about going to the river to breathe. 

“Did you hear me? He left.”

Changbin smirked, the feeling of Chan crawling on top of him and pressing tiny kisses up his arm sending goosebumps down his spine. 

“Did he?”

“Yeah, he did.” Chan whispered, soft kisses coating his skin as Chan ran a hand up his shirt, “that just leaves the two of us.”

Chanbin couldn’t hide his soft moans as Chan’s hand reached up to his nipple, brushing along the sensitive bud as his lips lingered along his throat. 

Chan brought a hand to the back of Changbin’s head as the older man rolled his hips into him from behind, fingernails digging into his chest as his free hand roamed into the front of Changbin’s sweatpants. 

Changbin laughed as Chan took no time wrapping his fingers around Changbin’s hardening cock. 

“I swear, you’re trying to kill me.” Chan flipped Changbin onto his back, pumping him slowly as he leaned down to press their lips together, “Changbin... you’re going to be the end of me.”

Changbin moaned as Chan’s tongue danced with his own, hand continuing steady movement. 

“Changbin…” Chan’s lips were heaven. The perfect pillows against his own lips, causing Changbin’s body to jolt in excitement. 

Changbin laughed as Chan’s hand left his cock to run against his ass, fingers lingering close to his hole, “you’re so impatient.”

“I just miss you.”

“You see me every day!” Changbin retorted. 

“Yeah but…” Chan pressed a finger against Changbin’s hole, eliciting a raspy moan from Changbin.

“But what?” Changbin asked. 

Chan released a low hum before inching his finger slowly, Changbin wincing from the dry entry. 

“You’re the worst!” Changbin laughed as Chan’s mouth collided with his throat, sucking against his Adam’s Apple, “Get some lube, Channie Chan Channie.”

It felt  _ so _ good. 

And it always felt like it had been so long between the times they had sex. Mostly because the time apart  _ was usually  _ lengthy. Changbin was always exhausted from work. Chan worked from home but even then he was usually tired too. Minho was over a majority of the time as well. They never really had proper time together. 

But that was marriage, right?

Changbin threw his head back as he lifted himself up, pressing himself back down steadily as Chan held his hips. He absolutely loved Chan. He loved the way he made him feel. Chan was this perfect, amazing, beautiful energy that kept his blood rushing. Chan was his peace. Chan was his home. 

“I love you,” Chan laughed, watching changbin with this half smirk that had Changbin smiling from ear to ear. 

“I love you too,” Changbin bounced, gasping as Chan thrust up into him, matching his speed perfectly.

His home. Chan was his home. 

Changbin released soft moans as Chan thrust up in succession, sweat pounding down the side of Changbin’s face as he worked his cock with the least amount of grace, knowing the moment he came he’d spray all over his husband. 

“I’m gonna cum, Changbin.”

“Are you?” Changbin laughed, releasing shakier moans as Chan sped himself up, “Careful, I have work in the morning!”

Chan slowed, gripping Changbin’s hips happily, “I can’t help it. I just want to bury inside of you forever.”

Changbin leaned down, the new position causing him to writhe over Chan before placing his lips amongst Chan’s, “God, I would kill to have you inside of me forever.”

Chan let out a steady moan as he wrapped his arms up around Changbin’s back, pressing delicate kisses to his hair as he rode out his orgasm. 

Changbin could feel the mess leaking from his hole as Chan continued to move, Changbin’s hand still pumping his cock steadily before his own spray of cum landed between their stomachs. The position helped save Chan’s face from the mess, the majority of Changbin’s seed now spread between the couples stomachs. 

They lay there awhile, wrapped up in one another naked in their master bed. It was heaven to Changbin. He was in the perfect setting. Chan was his happy place. Maybe hours went by. Changbin had lost track of time. 

_ Buzz.  _

Changbin growled into Chan’s chest before pulling himself up, finally feeling Chan’s softened cock slip from his hole as Changbin pressed his phone to his ear. 

“Yes?” The worst way to address the captain. But the captain was used to that from Changbin by now. 

_ “I need you in here.” His captain sighed in exasperation.  _

“Busy.”

“ _ We have a body.” _

Changbin sighed, “okay, get someone else to take it? Why are you calling me?”

“ **_Your_ ** _ boy found the body.” _

God dammit. 

Changbin sat himself upright, Chan rubbing his thigh comfortingly as he pressed small kisses to Changbin’s arm. 

“Minho found them?”

“Minho found what?” Chan asked, pulling himself upright, his kisses spreading to Changbin’s neck and back instead. 

“ _ Changbin _ .” The captain sounded impatient. 

“I’ll be there soon…” Changbin sighed reluctantly before hanging up. 

“What’s going on? Is Minho okay?” Chan asked as Changbin pulled out of bed, wincing at the pain in his hips as he pulled up a pair of dark pants from the floor. 

“Changbin?”

“He’s fine,” Changbin pressed a small kiss to his husband's cheek, “they found a body... Minho found the body.”

“Do you think it’s that missing woman?” Chan asked, frowning as Changbin pulled away to slink on one of Chan’s black t-shirts. 

“Honestly... probably. He didn’t say much but... I really have to go, I’m so sorry.”

“I get it. It’s fine. Go save the world!” Chan laughed, grabbing Changbin by the arm to spin Changbin back into him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I’ll be here.”

Changbin smiled back, “I won’t be long.”

* * *

“What were you thinking?” Changbin asked, Minho settled in the passenger seat. 

“I was helping my friend…”

“You can’t go body hunting with a  _ suspect, _ Minho. He could have contaminated the scene.”

“He was desperate. I wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Changbin frowned, “I’m not mad at you I’m just... what if he was luring you out there to kill you?”

“It’s Jisung…?”

“That means nothing to me?” Changbin watched Minho closely as they reached a stoplight, “where has he been all this time I’ve known you?”

“That’s not fair…”

“I’m serious, you could have been hurt.”

“She left a suicide note. But she didn’t kill herself. Changbin, I heard her…”

“Minho, you can’t—“

“He was desperate for the truth. If they’d found the body before me we’d never know that she was murdered. The bodies have to be undisturbed for me to hear their last words clearly. Otherwise, she could have said anything on the fucking morgue table. You know that.”

Changbin held his tongue, continuing the drive, “I love you, okay? I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I know.” Minho curled into the side of the seat, looking out the window as Changbin turned the volume of the music up so Minho could relax. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you…”

It was stupid. But Minho was right in a way. If he hadn’t found her body they would have assumed it was a suicide too. 

She was found in a fairly shallow grave off the path of a trail, but last year a man had dug himself a shallow grave before overdosing. Changbin remembered he laid down in the hole and covered himself as he died. It wasn’t... it wasn’t common enough in any sense, but a suicide was easier to close.

There was dirt buried between her nails, and she had stab wounds to the stomach. At first they seemed self inflicted. A couple stab wounds and a shitty cover up job... it could have been a suicide. Without Minho, That's exactly how it sounded in this fucked up town. 

“She was murdered,” Minho sighed, “someone killed her…”

Changbin sighed, “are you positive?”

“Positive.”

“Did she know who it was?”

Minho shook his head, “she kept telling whoever it was that she was pregnant so I’m assuming she didn’t... she begged them to not hurt her baby.”

Changbin kept an eye on Minho as he drove, “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“The killer didn’t care that she was pregnant…”

Changbin frowned, “Minho…”

“I should visit Jisung tomorrow... he was really shaken up.”

“Minho, don’t—“

“I want to talk to him. I want to help…”

Changbin knew Minho wanted to help. But part of him thought that Minho just wanted to talk  _ with  _ Jisung. And not just about the case. He clearly missed him. 

“Be careful, okay? He just lost his wife.”

“He seemed to know she wasn’t alive. He said he could feel it.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t him?”

Minho turned in disbelief, “she was calling  _ for _ him, not  _ to  _ him... he didn’t do this.”

“He could have had a mask—.” Changbin stopped and sighed. He had to believe him. It was  _ Minho.  _ He trusted him. Minho wouldn’t lie. Even for Jisung. Minho just wanted to help people. He wouldn’t cover a murderer, especially not one that had lack of sympathy and would murder a pregnant woman. 

* * *

“ _ How is he?”  _ Chan asked quietly as Changbin walked through the door, capturing a glimpse of Minho flopping onto the couch in the living room. 

“He’s weird... I don’t really know how he’s feeling.”

“He used to date that woman’s husband, right?”

Changbin nodded, “they were really close—.”

“I can hear you.” Minho called out, agitation lingering on his voice.

“We’ll talk later,” Changbin sighed, pressing a kiss to Chan’s cheek before heading into the living room, sitting at the armchair of the couch. 

“I’m fine, Changbin.”

“Are you?”

Minho gave him a sour look, “it’s not the first time I’ve found a body in the woods.”

“It’s not the body that’s bothering you, is it? It’s Jisung.”

Minho stilled. Of course it was Jisung. 

“He... he looked so defeated, Changbin. It wasn’t him. In no way on earth did he kill his wife. And he definitely didn’t set this up or whatever other conspiracy you’re thinking up to pin on him. He didn’t do this.”

“He was so sure it wasn’t a suicide…”

“Did it look like one to you? It was poorly staged.” Minho snapped, “I’ve seen suicides. That wasn’t a suicide. Even then... I heard her. She was defending her child. She didn’t kill herself.”

“So, we a have murder, no motive and no suspects.” Changbin settled into the couch beside Minho, resting his head on the man's shoulder, “Jisung said he had no idea or any sort of list of anyone who would harm her when he was questioned.”

“It didn’t sound random. I mean, she didn’t know who it was but at the same time... maybe she knew why she was being murdered. The killer probably told her before they did it.”

“I wish you could hear both conversations sometimes,” Changbin huffed, “actually, I’m sorry you had to hear it at all. I’m sorry you had to see your ex like that.”

Minho tensed, “I’m just worried about him.”

“I know you are.”

Minho took a deep breath, “who would kill a pregnant woman…? In this town? A drifter? A tourist?” Minho lay his head back, “I just want to know…”

“That’s not your job, you found her body.” Changbin responded, “and that’s all you can do.”

“I wish I could do more.”

“I know, Minho.”

“Sorry to crash again, but can I stay here tonight? My head is still throbbing from the woods. I really don’t think I can go out right now…”

“Music won’t help?” Changbin asked, carding his hand through Minho’s messy purple-colored hair, “we could watch a movie?”

“Anything is cool. I’m sorry to crash your night.”

“It’s fine. Me and Chan are always okay with it.”

“Thanks…”

* * *

Changbin crawled into the bed, sliding beside Chan with an exhausted sigh.

“How’s Minho?” Minho had been there for around three days now. Changbin and Chan didn’t mind. He was restless and a little anxious from what had happened. He’d never dealt with a death so close to home before, though they both knew it wasn’t the death on Minho’s mind. 

“Weirder than usual,” Changbin whispered, drawing circles into Chan’s chest, “he’s not okay.”

“Has anyone updated you at all?”

“No. They mentioned something about that man from the pier but... nothing on Yeeun.”

“You memorized her name?” Chan asked, brushing dark strands of hair from Changbin’s forehead. 

“I can’t stop thinking about the case... it’s really affecting Minho.”

“Has he been sleeping?”

Changbin shook his head, “he won’t. He said he’s waiting for the funeral but I don’t want him to go. It’ll be too overwhelming won’t it? A graveyard?”

“He’s a grown man. He can handle himself.” 

“Yeah but... he’s honestly more like a stray cat.”

Chan laughed at that, pressing small kisses onto Changbin’s cheeks, “you’re so protective.”

“He’s my best friend! I’m worried about him!” Changbin laughed, “I love that guy, I just want him to be careful. What if he panics at the funeral? What if he hears someone who died decades ago and can’t get away in time—.”

“Shush,” Chan clasped a hand over Changbin’s mouth, “seriously... he’ll be fine. If it’s stressing you out so much go with him?”

Changbin frowned, “go with him? And how would that turn out?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one who’s stressing out.”

Changbin curled into Chan with another huff, “I’ll go with him. I’ll bring AirPods and keep an eye on him…”

Chan pulled their blanket over them, “it’ll be fine. Everything will work out—.”

_ Buzz.  _

Changbin frowned as he pulled himself back up, grabbing his phone and pressing it to his ear. 

“What now?” Changbin asked with a huff. 

_ Oh.  _

Changbin’s expression fell. 

“What is it?” Chan asked, sliding himself up from the bed. 

Changbin slipped the phone from his ear, taking a deep breath. In all of his career in this small town, he of course had a lot on his plate. People went missing. It was normal. 

But never in such a short time between. 

“There’s another missing person.”

* * *


	3. Tchaikovsky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to read the tags! This is a darker story 💛

* * *

Jisung never wanted to attend another funeral. He knew life was fleeting. And he knew that the odds of attending another before he died was pretty high considering he wanted to live a long and fulfilling life. 

But he never imagined he’d be burying his wife so soon. 

Jisung hadn’t been able to process what had happened very well. He knew that it was probably his fault. He couldn’t imagine that his wife had ever done anything to harm anyone else. This had to be him. It  _ had _ to be. Somehow he’d pissed someone off. God. He couldn’t fathom his reality. 

He hadn’t yet processed that it wasn’t just his wife that had been brutally slain— _ yeah _ , she was definitely murdered. This wasn’t a suicide according to the medical examiner. And somehow that made things worse. Someone had killed his wife and unborn child. Taken two amazing beings from him so suddenly and so cruelly. 

It wasn’t fair. 

“You okay?” 

Jisung turned with an eye roll, eyes fixating quickly on the blond man standing at the door, “what do you think, Hyunjin?”

“I’m sorry—“

Jisung winced, “I don’t mean that, I’m just... you know?”

“I know. It was insensitive to ask,” the blond took a seat at the counter, watching Jisung with sad eyes, “I’m so sorry about Yeeun.”

Jisung tucked his hair behind his ear, “I don’t really know what to think. They said she had so many narcotics in her system and that the wounds were just... not self inflicted.”

Hyunjin brought his chin to Jisung’s shoulder, “I know, I’m so sorry.”

“On top of everything Seunngmin’s dad is…” 

_ Missing.  _

In similar fashion to Yeeun less than weeks ago, Seungmin’s father had disappeared. 

Seungmin and Hyunjin were Jisung’s best friends. His ride or dies. He’d grown up with them. He’d attended Seungmin’s mother’s funeral. And he’d attended Seungmin’s shotgun wedding that only lasted about a month. Jisung had also been there the day Jeongin had proposed to Hyunjin. 

They were his rocks. And right now one of them needed him, and he just  _ couldn’t  _ be there. 

Jisung wished he was better help to his friend, but with what had happened with his wife, he was pretty useless. He couldn’t imagine even trying to help find Seungmin’s father right now. 

“You should be helping Seungmin…” Jisung whispered, giving Hyunjin a weak smile. 

“He has a whole crew of people, plus Felix and Jeongin are helping him too.” Hyunjin rubbed his friends shoulders, “you need someone too right now.”

Jisung took a deep breath, “I’ll be fine—“

_ Knock.  _

“Are you expecting company?” Hyunjin asked as he pulled up from the counter to glance towards the door beyond the living room. 

“No.” Jisung pulled himself up, wiping his hands on his pants by habit before hurrying to the door, “maybe it’s the police or something.”

Jisung braced for the worst. Perhaps more news about Yeeun. At least that’s what he figured. 

He didn’t expect to see Lee Minho at his door as he inched it open. 

“Hey,” Minho announced. He had always been a little louder than the average person. He was really vocal while they dated too, and kinda obnoxious. It made sense that Jisung had fallen for him all those years ago. 

“Hi Minho…”

“I’m sorry for not calling. I was just really worried about you.” Jisung realized why Minho was being too loud, taking one good look at Minho’s earbuds that rest in his ears firmly. 

“Come in,” Jisung motioned, Minho taking a moment to understand before sliding passed Jisung and taking his earbuds out of his ears. 

“Oh, it’s so quiet in here.” Minho slipped his earbuds into his hoodie pocket, taking a quick glance around the home. Minho had never been in Jisung’s house. 

“How’d you know where I lived?” Jisung asked, closing the door and turning to face the man who looked so similar to what he did in high school. Besides the slight increase in height and the purple hair. 

Minho blinked, “Changbin. I begged him to tell me.”

“Oh, the cop?”

“He’s an investigator. I don’t like cops,” Minho responded, eyes settled on a photo on the wall, “she was really beautiful...” Minho trailed off, eyes falling back to Jisung, “I’d ask how you are but... I think I can figure.”

Jisung ushered Minho from the living room, halting when he noticed Hyunjin was watching him with daggers, “Hyunjin asked me the same thing... he’s actually in the kitchen...” Jisung whispered, keeping Minho behind him. 

Minho drew a breath, peeking around Jisung to give Hyunjin the weakest wave with his fingers, “Hey Hyunjin.” It was so  _ forced.  _ The discomfort lingered along with each syllable. 

Jisung knew they didn’t get along in high school. He understood why, but they were all adults now.  _ All  _ of them. They shouldn’t still be this way, right? Hyunjin should still hate Minho. He shouldn’t. 

“Should I go?” Minho asked suddenly, turning to Jisung and scratching at the back of his purple head of hair, “I didn’t know you had company…”

Jisung looked towards Hyunjin with a slightly pleading look, causing Hyunjin to give an annoyed look in response before rolling his eyes, “nah, I’ll go. I should join the search.”

Minho stirred uncomfortably as Hyunjin slipped past him.

And then Jisung waited for Hyunjin to leave before looking at Minho again, noticing just how uncomfortable Hyunjin had made him in such a short time, “you should have called. You know he’s always around me.”

“Like glue.” Minho whispered, hands in his large hoodie pocket. 

“You’d think after all this time you two would…” Jisung trailed off, glancing towards the kitchen again, “do you want anything to drink?”

Minho shook his head, “I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Ah, I’m the same as I was.” Jisung wished he wasn’t so casual with people. He wished he could break down. But he just didn’t have it in him.

“Thank you again for helping me, Minho.”

“Her wounds... the police could have probably determined it wasn’t a suicide you know.”

Jisung swallowed hard, “I didn’t know. I wanted to know just in case it wasn’t so... messy.”

“You should have shown them that letter... They would have probably asked for my help officially if they hadn’t—.”

“You know why I asked you to help me.” Jisung snapped, causing Minho to jump a little more than he expected. 

Minho shut up quickly, “I’m sorry.”

“Just, I’m sorry for snapping but you know they wouldn’t have found her as fast as you did. And I just couldn’t wait, okay? I had to know and now I do and…”

Minho’s eyes were full of grief, “is there anything I can do?”

Jisung inhaled, “I just need a distraction…” he glanced to his coat, “hey Minho, can you pass me the jacket behind you. The blue one.”

Minho blinked before turning to grab the coat from the hook, approaching Jisung slowly before handing him the coat, “are you going out?”

“Do you want to join the search party with me?”

“Search party for... Ah, Seungmin’s dad?”

“Yeah, we're still close friends. I should... I shouldn’t actually be doing anything other than crying under the covers and preparing for the funeral, but I just can’t. I’d much rather be out in fresh air… you can listen to music if you want.”

Minho smiled weakly, “would it help you if I went?”

Jisung nodded quickly, “yes.”

“Hyunjin…”

“He won’t say anything to you. I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

Minho shifted on his feet restlessly, “we don’t have to join his team right?”

Minho was  _ that  _ uncomfy with Hyunjin. 

“No. We can join another or we can search on our own.”

“A team!” Minho blurted, “I don’t want anyone to think that we’re like... Conspiring or something.”

“Is that what people would think?”

“Changbin tells me people  _ talk _ . Which is why I shouldn’t have helped you find—you know.”

“Nothing is going to happen... we’ll just get fresh air and follow along. I just need something to keep me from staring at my wall.” Jisung looked past Minho to the photograph of Yeeun, “anything is good.”  


* * *

Walking next to Minho again was nice. Without being so concerned with finding a body, he felt at ease. Minho had always been a comforting presence. 

_ He’s an adult, Jisung. You’re still a minor _ ?!

Jisung took a breath as he tried to shake the negative words in his head. Hyunjin  _ really _ never liked Minho. But Minho was so sweet. And he wasn’t  _ that  _ much older than Jisung. He really wasn’t. Just two years and two grade levels. It wasn’t that serious. 

So, why did he  _ listen  _ to Hyunjin all those years ago? 

_ Isn’t it kinda weird that a grown adult is dating a high schooler?  _ Hyunjin had whispered to him long ago. 

_ Minho and I have dated for two years, what are you talking about? _

_ It’s weird, Jisung.  _

Jisung regretted breaking up with Minho. He blamed it on the voices, but he knew better. 

_ It’s just too much, you know?  _ He remembered the pain in Minho’s eyes. 

It was never about the voices in Minho’s head. He really liked Minho. He’d always liked him. 

It was  _ Hyunjin _ . Maybe a little Seungmin too. And it really didn’t help that Hyunjin started that nasty rumor about Minho years ago. That  _ vile _ word for no reason. They were kids, Minho too. Nineteen wasn’t so different from seventeen. Minho  _ wasn’t _ that nasty word that Hyunjin had called him. 

So why had Jisung let it get to him so badly?

“Hey, you wanna listen?” Minho asked out of the blue, Jisung shaking those horrible memories to take one of the corded earbuds from Minho’s hand, slightly annoyed that Minho hadn’t charged his AirPods enough. 

“Who is it?” Jisung asked, taking in the tune calmly. It made sense that classical music helped Minho. It felt so soothing. So reassuring and weightless. Jisung thought classical music was a breath of fresh air. 

“Tchaikovsky.”  _ What a name.  _ “I think this one is called The Sleeping Beauty... I don’t really pay attention to the titles much. Just the artist. But this one Chan actually liked a lot so I guess that’s why I recognize it more.”

Jisung smiled, the music was actually a little chaotic. It suited Minho well. 

“Don’t you need both?” Jisung asked, getting a laugh from the man beside him. 

“No, I only use both when I get…” he glanced to Jisung, “you know I get a little anxious. But I’m fine right now.”

“How do you deal with it?”

Minho tapped the earbud with a bright smile, “music.”

“I’m sorry.” Jisung took a deep breath before looking forwards again, taking in the music as they followed the small group of people and the couple of dogs that were accompanying them. 

This wasn’t the  _ first  _ time Seungmin’s dad had wandered off. Maybe that’s why people were more lax than they should be. 

Seungmin’s father had  _ dementia _ . And though it was the middle of November, everyone figured he’d be fine. He usually was. Honestly these efforts were usually a little silly. His father would end up coming home later after a few days in a cab from god knows where. 

“How’ve you been, really?” Jisung asked as they reached the river, Jisung scanning along the edge as the music continued in his ear. 

“I’ve been fine. Changbin and Chan are really good to me. Actually I’m pretty sure I overheard Changbin call me a stray cat the other night.”

Jisung shook his head, “would you hate me if I agreed with him?”

Minho nudged him gently, his precious laugh filling the air. It had been a long time since he heard that laugh. 

“Thank you for coming with me.”

Minho gave Jisung a quick glance, “you’re welcome. Anything to help clear your head. I can’t imagine,” Minho paused, “you know, you deserve a breather.”

Jisung watched Minho fondly. Maybe he shouldn’t be. Maybe he shouldn’t be trying to completely clear his mind from the fact that someone murdered his pregnant wife. Maybe that’s the  _ last  _ thing he should be doing. But Minho made him feel so  _ safe.  _ And he liked feeling safe. He liked the safety so much more than anything else. 

The grief hurt. He didn’t want to hurt. 

“It’s so cold out here... I hope he’s okay,” Minho blurted out after a half hour of silent walking. 

“He usually comes home by cab. Nobody ever really questions where he went.”

“This town is so fucked.” Minho shook his head, another soft laugh escaping his lips, “they’re just so... cruel and careless.” Jisung knew what Minho meant. 

“It’s an odd town,” Jisung agreed, “do you think whoever killed Yeeun lives here?”

Minho stopped, the earbud pulling from Jisung’s ear unexpectedly, “Jisung—.”

Jisung exhaled, “I’m just... my head is clear I just can’t shake the thought of someone actually, you know?”

Minho bit into his bottom lip, “I know, I’m sorry that this happened to you.”

“I don’t mean to bring it up but  _ clearly _ someone just… killed her.”

“Do you want to leave?” Minho asked cautiously, “we don’t have to stay here you know? If there’s anything you can think of to clear your head. We could get food?”

Jisung glanced at the crowd in front of them, “I mean… they have a lot of searchers.”

“My treat.”

Jisung gave Minho a look with narrow eyes before offering a small chuckle of agreement, “alright.”

* * *

“Oh he’s the nutcracker guy?!” Jisung laughed, tapping the steering wheel as Minho turned the volume up, “I had no idea!”

“Honestly, I didn’t either for the longest time. I listened to a playlist of Tchaikovsky one day from Chan and it hit me.” 

Jisung continued to tap the steering wheel gently as Minho rested back into the passenger seat, “it is pretty soothing.”

“I’ll never understand it. How this is the only music that can really soothe me.”

“Is it instant?”

“Instant?”

Jisung stopped at the stop light, giving Minho a soft smile, “does it work instantly?”

Minho nodded, eyes full of truth, “it’s weird. It works so fast that I can calm myself within minutes. Like my anxiety might still be there, but it’s like a shield of relief. And I can breathe. I’m just really glad that Changbin tried it on me one day.”

“Me too. I’m glad it—“

Jisung hated loud noises. And he hated the feeling that filled him so suddenly. 

Along with the glass.

He didn’t appreciate the glass that had sprayed at him either. Though he couldn’t see any visible punctures as he scanned himself with the halt of the car. 

He didn’t see any when he glanced at Minho either. 

They were  _ fine _ . 

However the man who had just landed onto the hood of Jisung’s vehicle was not. 

Okay maybe Minho  _ wasn’t _ fine. He turned the radio down so quickly, breaths erratic as he looked at the body that lay on top of the vehicle. 

Jisung couldn’t see much. He could see the man's back. And he could see broken glass from his windshield. But nothing more. 

“Minho…”

Minho cut the radio, eyes scanning the person before them. 

“Minho can you... are you okay?”

Jisung was tense. But outwardly he was always fine. 

“Minho—“

“He’s coughing... he’s coughing so much.”

Jisung glanced at the body.  _ Shit _ . 

“Turn it back on, Min—.”

“He’s gasping and he’s... Jisung he’s begging for…”

“Minho?” Jisung moved Minho’s hand, turning the radio back up. 

Jisung watched as Minho instantly calmed, which was so weird. It was so strange how his shoulders released their tension and his breaths went from erratic gasps to calm exhales. 

The music really did calm Minho fast. It was so surreal to see. 

Minho took a deep breath before turning his face to Jisung’s, eyes shaky with panic. 

“He’s calling for Seungmin.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading 💛

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for enjoying, it can only go down from here!
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